A Night At The Opera
by dolly.the.sheep
Summary: hooray for the bbc website ... i watched 'attack of the graske' and heard a cute little line about opera, and another plot bunny was born. long live Ten!


_"Bravo, brava! Dunno why I said that … maybe I like opera …"_

* * *

_Una donna a quindici anni de saperogni granmoda, dove il diavolo ha la coda, cosa e bene e mal cos'e …_

Whistling along to the music, the Doctor happily scanned the console screen. Rose noticed that he was in a funny mood lately, ever since he'd picked her up from that Abba concert. He kept putting all his opera music on the TARDIS's sound system, and was constantly rhapsodising about the wonders of opera.

"I met Mozart once, y'know," the Doctor said absent-mindedly as he scrolled down the page he was looking at and clicked on something. "Helped him out of a bit of writer's block. Lovely bloke. That little bit there," he added, nodding to the speaker to indicate a particularly high soprano trill, "that's mine. Thought it'd be nice of Despina to let the audience in on the joke."

"Despina?" Rose said, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. "Who was she, another one of your past companions?"

"No, Despina's the one who's trying to trick these two girls into falling for her plan—haven't you been listening?" He sighed and clicked a couple more times. "I did try and explain 'Cosi Fan Tutti' for you several times –"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Rose said, shaking her head and grinning slightly. "It's always the same old story with these operas anyway – girl meets boy, girl loses boy, girl disguises self as boy, everyone gets horribly confused and girl ends up marrying boy."

"Well, if you want the happy ending, then yes," the Doctor admitted, clicking on a few more links. "But if you're in the mood for a weepie—" Click. "—then girl usually dies at the hands of evil villain." Click. "Boo, hiss, rar, nasty bad guy, yadda yadda yadda. It's always the same." Click.

"So why do you listen to it?"

"Because, Rose, the music is always different. That's what makes it so interesting. There's always new trills, new runs, new high soprano notes, new low bass notes. And the language!" His eyes lit up and he smiled dreamily. "Oh, Rose, if there's one human language I adore, it's Italian. Those names, the accent –"

"Alright, keep your hair on," she giggled. "Don't want you going off on one again." She casually inspected her fingernails, trying to look nonchalant. "Anyone would think you were in love with Mozart or something …"

"I'll have you know that I got VERY drunk that night …"

"What!"

"Ah HA! Found it!" he exclaimed, ignoring Rose and grinning at the screen. He frantically clicked some more before clapping his hands together excitedly and grinning up at Rose. "Front row tickets, Phantom Of The Opera! Original Broadway cast – Sarah Brightman and Michael Crawford – opening night and everything!" He did an excited little jig on the spot as Rose looked on confusedly.

"How'd you manage to get those?"

"Easy, just a bit of jiggery-pokery with the box office computer system using the sonic screwdriver. I introduced a positive frequency to the automatic printing system so that the computers recognised the purchase of the aforementioned seats, then used a reverse transmat signal to beam the physical manifestations up to the TARDIS."

"English, please, Doctor."

"I fooled the computer into thinking the seats had been sold and then teleported the tickets up here." He grinned and held up two tickets. "New York here we come!"

"Now, wasn't that so much easier to say than all that stuff about a positive transmat and the frequency of the aforementioned seats?"

"Actually, it was a positive _frequency_ and _purchase_ of the aforementioned seats," the Doctor said in his maddeningly patient way, "and no, it wasn't easier. So nyer," he added, blowing Rose a raspberry.

"Very mature," Rose commented, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure Sarah Brightman will appreciate it."

"Well, you never know," he remarked, "she might. Then again, it might just be my charming smile." He grinned widely again. "I quite like my new mouth."

"I'm sure you do," Rose said, playing along. "I expect you'll dazzle her with your amazingly straight teeth."

"What's wrong with my teeth?" the Doctor asked, pretending to be hurt. He stuck his bottom lip out and did a very good impression of a sulking three-year-old. "I've got nice teeth."

"They're lovely teeth," Rose agreed, like a mother trying to talk the sulking three-year-old out of his mood. "Now, let's go and brush them so that we'll look nice for going to see the opera."

"Musical, Rose," corrected the Doctor. "It's a musical based on a book about opera. Or something like that. Anyway, I do love a bit of Andrew Lloyd Webber."

"I thought you liked opera?"

"Maybe I like musicals as well. I need to test this new body out, Rose, and I won't know if I like something if I don't try it."

"Like mangos?"

The Doctor pulled a face.

"Still not sure about them."

* * *

Several hours later, the Doctor ran into the TARDIS excitedly, followed by a resigned and amused Rose, who had followed him around Broadway and giggled every time he gasped at a new set of flashing theatre lights.

"How AMAZING was that Rose!" he exclaimed, jumping around the console like a child dancing around a Christmas tree at the sight of an interestingly-shaped present. "I never knew people could sing that high! And when that chandelier came down – WHOOMPH! – and then STOPPED right above our heads—"

"It was cool, yeah," admitted Rose, grinning widely at the sight of the Doctor's wide-eyed enthusiasm. She had gotten used to his tireless energy by now, and more often than not she would stand back and wait for him to wear himself out sufficiently enough for them to be able to pilot the TARDIS together without him attempting to hit every button and pull every lever by himself.

"So when can we see another one?" the Doctor said, leaping across and jumping up to sit on the metal pole that surrounded the seating area by the console. He swung his legs back and forth excitedly and looked expectantly at Rose.

"Another one?" Rose laughed incredulously. "What happened to hopping over to the Horsehead Nebula and checking out that solar flare?"

"Ah, but that was _before_ Broadway, Rose," the Doctor reminded her, grinning. "Before the opera. Before the music wrapped itself around my brain and wound its way around my hearts and opened up my soul—"

"Al_right_, al_right_!" giggled Rose, as the Doctor jumped off the pole and grabbed Rose, spinning her round in an attempt at a dance. "Just stop acting like you're in love with the music and let's go and check out that solar flare."

"Ah, but I can't, Rose," the Doctor said, still beaming like a Cheshire cat. "The music's got me and it makes me want to dance all night—hang on, isn't that a song?"

"Probably," Rose chuckled. "You seem to be doing a lot of that at the moment."

"Hmm … odd. Very odd." There was a silence while the Doctor spun Rose around a few more times and danced her across the console.

"Still got the moves, I see," Rose commented, smiling playfully.

"Took me a while to get used to the legs," he admitted, "they're ever so long."

"I'm shorter than _you_!"

"I meant my legs, you plank," the Doctor said, cuffing Rose about the head gently. "Just don't try any funny moves."

"I'll leave the moves to you then," she said, still grinning. "But next time, _I _choose the show."


End file.
